


With eyes no longer blind

by Aristi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bullying, Claustrophobia, Dursley's raised Harry still, Harry & Snape are in the same year, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know, Is this a kissing book?, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pre-Slash, Sadly no, Snarry AUctoberfest 2020, a little vomit, references to child neglect, sorry - Freeform, where are Lily and James?, why not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26888860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aristi/pseuds/Aristi
Summary: What would happen if Harry Potter was in Severus Snape's year?Both the victims of bullying, Harry and Severus find themselves trapped in a cupboard. When they come out, things will be different.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Comments: 15
Kudos: 123
Collections: Snarry AUctoberfest 2020





	With eyes no longer blind

**Author's Note:**

> This is pre-slash. Harry has a panic attack, and the last thing he'll be thinking about is kissing someone... for now. Don't @ me for no kissing. 
> 
> Please read the tags for triggers and take care of yourselves out there.
> 
> Huge thanks to my fantastic Beta, Oliver Wilde, who dropped everything to read this first thing in the morning... twice.

“In you go, Potty,” Stevenson said, his sneer evident in his tone. 

Harry felt burly hands grab his shoulders and shove him backwards. He stumbled and fell, scraping knuckles on the floor as his bound wrists broke his fall. 

Harry heard laughter from in front of him. “Merlin, Hufflepuffs are pathetic,” Stevenson taunted.

He stared in the general direction of his attackers, whatever spell they had used blinding him. 

“You two have fun now,” Pevensie snickered, and Harry heard glass breaking and then the snick of the door locking. 

“Fuckers,” he muttered, wincing at the sound of his own voice cracking.

He tried to stand up, but couldn’t get leverage with his hands behind his wrists, and soon after the ache in his knuckles became too much to bear, he resigned himself to another long wait and humiliating rescue. 

This was the third time this month he’d be lying to the professors, claiming to not know who his tormentors were. Last week it had been an up close and personal view of Moaning Myrtle's toilet, the week before it had been a slipping jinx as he’d been about to deliver his bottled potion for marking. Of course, Vanessa had been _trying_ to help when he vanished the leftover potion. 

Vanessa had warned him he ought to stop going out alone, but with only a week before the O.W.L's, he’d needed to escape. There was now a constant ruckus in the common room as the stress of the upcoming exams hit the upper years especially. The library wasn't much better, so he decided to take a walk to the kitchens for a snack. 

He should have known not to go near the dungeons, not alone. He’d found himself cornered, disarmed, and at their mercy faster than he’d like to admit. A few quiet spells later and his arms had been tied behind him, his glasses shattered on the floor, to be replaced by some sort of opaque shadow that blinded him. 

They hadn’t dragged him far — maybe only 30 meters — before shoving him in, well, wherever he was.

He pulled at his restraints to no avail, and gave up. He tilted his head in the direction he thought the door was, trying to hear anything that might give his location away.

“Potter, is that you?”

Harry froze. The voice had come from behind him. Someone was _in_ here. 

After a painful amount of silence, the voice broke it again. _"Potter!_ "

“I'm here!” Harry defended, purely on instinct.

“Too royal to answer me the first time?" The voice was undeniably Snape’s. No fifteen year old could master biting sarcasm like Snape. He was sure Snape was rolling his eyes, a sneer on his face.

Harry groaned, biting his tongue to stop himself saying something he would regret. “Where are we?”

“Merlin, you really are as dull as everyone thinks, aren't you?” he asked, dripping with disdain. “You really are blind, as well as dumb. Didn’t you see the painting of the dancing hippogriff next to the door? I suppose with your genetic disadvantages, sight always has been rather hard for you.” 

Harry ground his teeth. “I’m blindfolded.” 

Silence. 

“Oh.”

Harry fidgeted. 

“Well, it’s pitch black in here, and all I could really see was your spectacular landing.” 

“Right,” Harry rolled his eyes.

Harry curled himself over and brought his knees under him. 

“Do you have your wand?” he asked, only slightly out of breath. 

“Do you think I’d still be in here if I did?” 

“One can hope?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

Harry sighed. “Fine then. Can you maybe help me with these ropes? They tied my hands behind my back.” 

“Fine, hang on.” 

He heard shuffling coming closer and felt a finger poke his ear. “Ow, that’s my ear!” 

“Well if you would stop flailing about, maybe it would be a little easier to locate you in the bloody dark!” 

Harry gritted his teeth, stopping himself from saying anything that would make Snape leave him bound and helpless.

Snape’s hand fumbled around till it grabbed firm on Harry's wrists then fingered the rope, feeling for the knot. 

Snape scoffed. “No surprises here, Potter, but you’ll be happy to know Pevensie and Stevenson are most likely psychopaths-in-training.” 

“What?” 

“The spell they used is a variation on _incarcerous_ that is usually used to hold hostages.” 

“What? How do _you_ know it then?”

The hands at his wrists stilled. 

Snape cleared his throat. “I… No reason."

"Snape?"  
  
"It can be used for other circumstances,” Snape said quietly. 

If Harry wasn’t mistaken, Snape had sounded rather… embarrassed. He wasn’t sure why else you’d want to use the spell, but it didn’t really matter right now. 

“Well, are you able to remove it?” 

“I’m almost positive, I will only need a moment.” 

Harry felt Snape’s hand pulling and tugging at the ropes for a few minutes before suddenly they were loose and Harry was able to wriggle his hands out. He pulled his arms in front of him with relief, reaching forward to stretch his shoulders. 

“Thank you.” Harry said, rubbing at his wrists.

“Don’t mention it.” 

Harry reached up to pull off the blindfold but found there was nothing there. Whatever they used, he supposed he’d need a wand to remove it.

He heard Snape move again, back to his original spot presumably. 

“So, you never told me where we are. And before you say we’re next to some dancing hippogriff painting, let me remind you that _I_ am not in Slytherin, and I have enough of a life that I don't go around memorising every painting in the castle.” 

“You’re _are_ Hufflepuff, though,” Snape intoned. “Surely you can remember the portraits in your own corridor.” 

“Clearly not. Can you just give a straight answer?” 

“We’re in one of Filch’s janitorial cupboards.” 

“Now was that so hard? Honestly, you’d think I was asking you to…” Harry trailed off. “Cupboard?” 

“Yes. Deaf as well as blind, are we?”

Harry felt his stomach twist. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Snape snapped. “I am not so unobservant as you.” 

A drop of sweat rolled down his face. He felt dread settle in him.

He stood up and felt for the wall to his left, then reached for the opposite wall. 

His hand could touch. His arms weren't even stretched all the way.

He fumbled for the door behind him and did the same, his arms didn’t reach, the tiny sliver of relief that brought was gone only a second later. He stepped against the wall and walked forward, stumbling on Snape’s legs, until he felt the last wall. It wasn’t even 4 steps. 

“Potter, what are you doing?”

Harry's heart raced, pounding out some macabre drum beat. 

“No,” he moaned. “No no no nononono.”

“Potter?” 

Harry kept feeling his way around the room, he couldn't tell but it felt smaller than it had only a moment ago. He needed to find the door again. "Out,” he muttered, “out, I gotta get out." 

"What, you think I don't know that? They locked the doors." 

" _OUT!_ I gotta get out! Gotta get out, out, out, gotta get-" 

“Are you finally succumbing to insanity?”

He found the handle and twisted it, his arms feeling too heavy. He shoved against the door with his whole body, only to find it immovable. 

"No!" He twisted the handle rapidly and shook the whole door. It didn't open. He slammed his shoulder into the door again, pushing with everything he had, but it stayed closed. 

"No! Come on, _come on."_

He was beginning to feel pins and needles in his fingers, and he suddenly bent at the waist and retched, grateful now for his mostly empty stomach. 

He heard clattering behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder. “Potter! What are you doing?” 

Harry flinched and dropped to his knees, his head against the door. 

“I have to get out,” he whispered. “I have to _get out!”_

"Merlin, Potter, calm down."

"No, you don't _understand. I can't be here. I have to get out!"_

He took too-shallow breaths and tried to steady the feeling of despair that was rapidly creeping in. Harry tried to swallow but it felt like his throat had closed against him and a giant was encircling his chest. 

“Potter, you have to breathe, alright? Calm down.” 

He couldn’t breathe, each panicked inhale accompanied by a moan.

Harry barely registered as his hand was lifted to Snape's chest and held there. 

“Okay, Potter, you’re having a panic attack. That’s alright, you’re going to be alright.” 

“You’re going to match my breaths now, understand? Feel my chest moving. In and out. Let’s try for 3, yeah? In, two, three; out, two, three. Again. In, two, three; out, two, three.”

Harry was trying but he couldn’t concentrate. He whimpered.

“It's alright. Just try again. Breathe. In, two, three; out, two, three.” 

He made it to 3, shaking the whole while, but he made it. 

“That’s it Potter. And again. In, two, three; out, two, three. Great, let’s go to 4. In, two, three, four; out, two, three, four. That’s right, keep going with me.” 

Harry breathed with Snape until he could make it to 4, but when Snape started counting to 5, he couldn’t make his lungs go past 4, no matter how hard he tried.

“That’s okay, Potter. We can work with 4. Now I want you to keep breathing just like that. And when we get to 4, I want you to tell me 1 thing you can see.” 

Harry got to 3 and opened his eyes and let out a garbled laugh. “Can’t see,” he choked out. 

“Oh, right. Neither can I. Umm, alright tell me something you can smell.” 

Harry breathed in again, focusing on the smells, and cringed at the sour smell. “Ugh, vomit.” 

“That’s good. Keep breathing. Tell me another one.” 

He sniffed again. “Salt?”

“Good, that’s the sweat I think. Again.” 

There was bleach. Did wizards have bleach? Maybe there wasn’t a potion that was better than bleach. Why did they even need potions?

“Potter?”

“Bleach.”

“Again.”

He closed his eyes again and focused. “Ink?” 

“One more time for me.” 

Harry cocked his head to the side and caught a whiff of something like smoke. “Burnt toast?” 

“Close enough. Good job Potter. Let’s try for 5 again. In, two, three, four, five — good! — out, two, three, four, five. That’s great, let’s keep going for a while, yeah?” 

Harry kept his eyes closed and focused on the smell of the burnt toast, keeping the rhythm he could still feel against Snape’s chest. 

After a few minutes, Snape asked, far more gently than Harry would have ever expected from him, “Feeling any better?” 

Harry took a moment to assess. He wasn’t hyperventilating anymore, and his fingers had stopped tingling. His heart rate was slowing down, though he did still feel nauseous, and he was starting to get a bit of a headache. 

“Yeah, loads.” 

“Thank Merlin,” Snape sighed. “I don't want to intrude, but… What exactly—” 

“Like you said,” Harry replied quickly, his voice small, “panic attack.” 

“I know that, but are you claustrophobic or do you just see a broom cupboard—” 

Harry flinched at the word.

“—and go running? Or is it because you’re trapped with me?”

Harry wasn’t listening anymore. In the darkness, he could no longer tell where he was. 

_‘Freak’ called a woman's voice._

_‘Boy’ a man roared ‘get into your bloody cupboard!’_

Harry moaned. No, not again, not again! “I promise I’ll be good,” he whispered, “please just let me out!”

He heard a distant voice calling his name.

“Potter! Potter!” 

An arm wrapped around his shoulder — He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t _breathe._ They wouldn't let him out.

The voice yelled, “Harry!” 

Harry? They never called him _that._

“Harry!” Another arm wrapped around him and realised he was being firmly held and rocked. 

“Oh Merlin, it’s alright, Harry, it’s okay, just breathe, it’s okay.”

He realised it was Snape and awareness jarred him back to the present. His breath was ragged again but not quite so far gone as it had been only a few minutes ago. 

“Sorry,” he gasped, tears escaping. “Sorry sorry sorry.”

Harry gathered the shattered pieces of his control and tried to put himself back together. He knew he’d spend countless hours reliving the humiliation of losing it so thoroughly in front of Severus Snape of all people. He could only be grateful for the small mercy that neither of them could see the other.

“It’s okay Harry, you’re fine. I apologise, I didn't realise that, you know…" Snape trailed off. 

Harry let the rocking soothe his traumatised nerves, working on his breathing again, acutely feeling the rise and fall of Snape's chest against his back. 

Some time passed, and Harry finally had control over himself again. He realised he was still wrapped in Snape’s arms, his head resting against the other boy's head. Harry felt his cheeks heat. “Err, thank you,” he said stiffly. 

He raised his head suddenly, eager to be a little less of a burden, and knocked it into Snape’s chin. 

“Ow! _Merlin,_ Potter!” Snape’s hand released him and he felt the heat from Snape’s body retreat as Snape sat back a bit. 

“Sorry,” Harry cringed, rubbing at the back of his own head. 

“That is _not_ how you thank someone,” Snape grumbled. 

Harry turned around to lean against the door and sighed, “I said I was sorry.”

“Do you think you’re done now?” Snape asked cautiously. 

“Probably, I think that was the worst…” 

“But?” 

“It’s just small spaces… and we’re stuck here… and I don’t know when they’ll notice…” he voice was getting raspier, “and I don’t know how long—“

“Distraction. Got it. Well, the first thing I'm going to do when I get out of here is go find that fucker, Pevensie, and shove him into the Staff Witches Bathroom and lock the door. Let him explain to McGonagall why he’s in there.” 

Harry let out an amused grunt. 

“After that, I’m going to… brew polyjuice and trick Stevenson into drinking it. I’ll put in one of Slughorn’s hairs. That’ll be a fun hour or two.” 

Harry smiled at the thought. “You could always put in your own hair and set Sirius on him.” 

Snape was quiet for a moment. “That, Potter, might be the smartest idea you’ve had. Well done.” 

Harry felt his blush return and chuckled quietly, suddenly feeling very tired. 

“So, what are you going to do to them?” 

“Nothing,” Harry sighed. “It’s easier if I don’t make a fuss.” 

“What? You can't let them get away with this. I know you’re not a Gryffindor, but surely you have some courage. Stand up for yourself or become a doormat.” 

“It’s fine, they are usually pretty harmless.”

“Fine then, what _would_ you do if you were to retaliate?” 

Harry thought about it. “I don’t know, maybe turn their hair pink?”

“That’s pathetic. We have to work on your cunning too, apparently. Try again.” 

“I don’t know.” He was too tired for this. His mind was working too slowly. “I guess I… I could start a rumour that — no, that’s cruel…” 

“Cruel is good, use that.” 

“No, I don’t want to be like them.” 

“This is hypothetical, it’s fine.” 

“No.”

Snape huffed.

Harry relented, “I think I read of a jinx a while back that makes the target sing everything for the next 24 hours or so. There isn’t a counter if I remember correctly… so I guess I could use that on them… I dunno.” 

Snape laughed. “I've heard them sing. Not sure if that will be worse for them or everyone within earshot. Warn me so I can get ear plugs.” 

“Only if you get me some too,” Harry laughed. 

The laughter faded and Harry started to feel the walls a little more keenly. “So,” he said quickly, “what brings you here? I mean, was it Pevensie and Stevenson then?” 

“Isn’t it always? So much for House loyalty.” 

“Oh,” Harry said. “Bad luck.” 

Snape snorted. “I must have been born with it.” 

“Me too.” He hummed.

Harry thought back on the last half hour. “You seemed to know what to do - you know, when I was… How did you…?” 

Snape let out a long sigh. “I used to get them. The panic attacks.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, thank you for, ya know, all that earlier.” 

“Like I said, don’t mention it.” 

“Okay.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Snape asked. 

“No.” 

“I think you should.” 

“No.”

“Not now, I mean, but when we get out again. I think you should talk to Sprout. I know she’s, well, Sprout, but she is your Head of House, and she can probably help.” 

“I’ll think about it.” 

“Okay.” 

“We should do it together.”

“What?”

“Retaliation.” 

“Oh, for what?”

“What do you think? _This!_ Strength in numbers and all that. I could help with any potions, and I have access to the Slytherins, and they understandably think you’re too dimwitted to try anything—” 

“Oi!” 

“—so they won’t suspect you if you get a little too close to their pumpkin juice.” 

“I already told you, retaliation will only lead to escalation. It’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine, and so what if they escalate? We can hold them off together. You’re decent at Defence, I’m a prodigy at Potions. We can take them on.” 

“I don’t know…” 

“What could be worse than this? Stuck in a—” 

“ _DON’T_ say it!”

“Right. Stuck with me. And your own vomit.” 

“Well when you put it like that…” 

“Exactly!” 

“I suppose we do need to get our wands back…”

“Obviously.”

“And I guess it couldn’t hurt to do a little recon while we’re at it.”

“I’m shocked, Potter, it sounds like you want to actually have a plan,” Snape drawled. Harry knew he’d find a smirk on Snape’s face if he could see him. “Found your Hufflepuff sense of justice, I see.”

Harry suddenly saw an image of him and Snape running around the castle chasing a singing Pevensie and Stevenson yelling 'justice!' and he smiled.

“Okay, okay, l’m in. But nothing too bad! I don’t want to sink to their level.” 

“You take the fun out of everything,” Snape grumbled. Harry was pretty sure he was just teasing though.

Harry chuckled. And then he thought about having to tell Vanessa that he’d made friends with Severeus Snape of all people and laughed harder.

“Are you losing it again?” Snape asked warily. 

That only set Harry off more. 

He was laughing so hard he missed the sound of the lock and fell back as the door swung open.

“Cupboards are _not_ for displays of affect— oh.” 

One swift incantation and the shadow on Harry’s eyes was lifted. He looked up into the blurry face of Professor McGonagall and started laughing again, tearing up.

The professor frowned and looked around a moment before summoning something off the ground. After a _reparo,_ she handed it to him and Harry realised it was his glasses.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Snape,” McGonagall said while Harry put his glasses on. “How surprising to find you both here, after curfew, in a cupboard. Perhaps there is some reason you have found yourselves to be here, someone or ones whose names could possibly save you from detention?” 

Harry looked at Snape, wiping the tears from his eyes. He noticed Snape’s robes had little patches of burns on them. His eyes narrowed, burnt toast indeed. 

Snape looked at him questioningly. Harry nodded. 

“Unfortunately, Professor, we have no names to give you,” Snape said with an air of over dramatised despair. “You know young men, working off some of that pre-OWLs stress in the privacy of a cupboard.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yes,” he said, covering up a laugh, “We’ll take the detentions.”

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed. “As you prefer. Detention, 8 o’clock Friday.” 

Snape stood and helped Harry to his feet. 

McGonagalI pursed her lips, shaking her head at them. “I really don’t know why you refuse to accept help.

Harry looked up at Snape. 

“We’ve got it covered.”

**Author's Note:**

> > Title from a fantastic poem by Langston Hughes, "I look at the world". Excerpt below:
>> 
>> “I look at my own body   
> With eyes no longer blind—  
> And I see that my own hands can make  
> The world that's in my mind.” 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always welcome.
> 
> This work is part of the Snarry AUctoberfest 2020. The creator will be revealed after all works have been posted.


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